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Offer Quotes

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Offer Quotes

““Jebediah has given up on you, but I never will. I can offer you the security you desire. If you’ll but be mine, your heart will forever be sheltered in my care. Yes, we will quarrel incessantly and fight for dominance. And yes, there will be ravishes of passion, but there will also be gentle lulls. That is who we are together. You’ll never need fear that your love is not reciprocated. For although you’ve made me feel things I am not equipped for . . . I cannot stop feeling them.” His chin quavers. “You opened Pandora’s box within me. Set loose the imaginings and emotions of a mortal man. And there is no closing it ever again.” The jewels under his eyes twitch between dark purple and blue. “As much as I abhor being anything akin to human, Alyssa, I wouldn’t dare try to close it. Because that would mean losing you.” The confession is lovely and brutal—laced with honesty that I not only hear in the rasp of his voice, but feel in the quaking of his muscles as he holds my hands over my head.”

“Instead of breaking or cherry-picking the rules, many just follow the inner rules, which have been instilled during their lifetime and have subtly permeated their thinking. They value rules, as it offers the ravishment of a securing, ceremonial rhythm in life and it prevents them from breaking free from their cocoon, all the more because freedom can be so scaring and exhausting. ("When forgetting the rules of the game" )”

“When you are convinced that what you offer is yours, whether it be mediocre or of standard quality, your originality will make people love you in a way you did not expect.”

“33. Satan will attempt to offer you whatever you hunger for, whether it be money, power, sex, or prestige. But Jesus said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness” (Matthew 5:6).”

“Jesus Christ is the source—the only source—of meaning in life. He provides the only satisfactory explanation for why we’re here and where we’re going. Because of this good news, the final heartbeat for the Christian is not the mysterious conclusion to a meaningless existence. It is, rather, the grand beginning to a life that will never end. That same Lord is waiting to embrace and forgive anyone who comes to Him in humility and repentance. He is calling your name, just as He called the name of Pete Maravich. His promise of eternal life offers the only hope for humanity. If you have never met this Jesus, I suggest that you seek spiritual counsel from a Christian leader who can offer guidance. You can also write to me, if that would help. Thanks for reading along with me. I hope to meet you someday. If our paths don’t cross this side of heaven, I’ll be looking for you in that eternal city. By all means, Be there!”

“Suicide creates his own society: to shut yourself off from other people in some dingy, rented box and stare, like Melville's Bartleby, day in and day out at the dead wall outside your window is in itself a rejection of the world which is said to be rejecting you. It is a way of saying, like Bartleby, 'I prefer not to' to every offer and every possibility, which is a condition no amount of social engineering will cure.”

“She’s leaving me!” “Leaving? She’s been waiting for you to get your shit together.” I step into him. “That Hunter bastard is offering her the world! What do I got to give? Nothing. I’ve got nothing.” Isaiah slams his finger into my biceps. “She looks at you like you’re the whole universe! I’d kill to have a sliver with Beth of what you have with Echo. Wake the f*ck up!” I pound my hand to my chest, mimicking the pain slicing it. “Echo’s leaving me.” “No, man. You’re the one leaving her,” he seethes. “Get it together or she will walk.”

“Listen, Wesley, this may sound weird coming from me, since I hate you and all, but you can tell me stuff if you want.” It sounded like something out of a cheesy G-rated movie. Great. “I mean, I vented all of my shit about Jake to you, so if you want to do the same,… well, I’m cool with that.” The smirk slipped for a second. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Then he cleared his throat and added stiffly, “Didn’t you say that you needed to go home? You don’t want to be late for school.” “Right.” I started to stand, but his warm hand closed around my wrist. I turned around and found him looking at me. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine. Before I even realized what was happening, he pulled away and whispered, “Thank you, Bianca.”

“We can end this before anyone gets hurt." William held his hands out to sides as if to show her he was unarmed. "You don't want to hurt people, do you? You will if you don't come away with me. You know that." "I'm not bad," Daisha whispered. "I believe you." He held out a hand to her. He curled his fingers toward him in a beckoning gesture. "You can do the right thing here. Just come with me. We'll go meet some people who can help us." "Her. The new Graveminder." "No, not her. You and I can fix this all on our own.”

“You haven't even asked what I'll pay you," Rapunzel said innocently. "You don't have enough," Flynn promised. Then he turned to Gina and said in a theatrical whisper, "This is where she offers her necklace, or a bracelet, or some other rich girl trinket I couldn't pawn even if I wanted...." "How about a crown?" Rapunzel suggested. Flynn grew very, very still. "Uh-oh," Gina said with a wicked grin. "What, um-- what crown?" Flynn asked casually. "The one that you stole. The one that the Stabbingtons want back. The one that you hid, rather obviously, in a tree hollow," Rapunzel said smugly, crossing her arms. "Diamonds, pearls, about my size... You know, that crown?" "That's my crown! Give it back! I stole it fair and square!" Flynn, cried, leaping up. "You mean you stole it from the castle, or you stole it from the Stabbingtons?" Gina asked interestedly. "Doesn't matter," Flynn said, crossing his arms and setting his jaw childishly. "It's mine now." "Well, no, it's mine," Rapunzel said. "At least until you take me to see the lanterns, and home again. Then it's yours." "You must have seen me hide it! In the tree!" "Déduction très brillante," Rapunzel said archly.”

“Als ik mij identificeer met - beter: als ik mij vervreemd op grond van - beelden en idealen die ingaan tegen mijn lichaam, dan is mijn buik de eerste lichaamsregio die protest aantekent, lang vooraleer ik bewust besef wat er aan de hand is. Onze (onder)buik is een lichaamsregio waar affecten voelbaar worden, wat we kunnen terugvinden in de wijsheid van onze taal: "het ligt zwaar op mijn maag", "ik doe het in mijn broek van angst", "er ligt iets op mijn lever". Wanneer ik daar geen gehoor aan geef en ondanks de protesten verderga op de ingeslagen weg, worden de signalen dwingender en verschuift protest van ongemak naar pijn en vervolgens naar ziekte. Mijn lijf tekent protest aan - het doet pijn. Geef ik daar gehoor aan? Bij gebrek aan een goede afstemming op mijn lichaam doe ik dat niet. Het kan nog erger: vanuit het concurrentieprincipe kan ik zelfs nog een stap verdergaan en de pijn die ik voel als deel van het "offer" beschouwen dat ik moet brengen om een ideale vrouw of man te worden, als een te bepalen prijs om succesvol te zijn. Een dergelijke interpretatie van pijn illustreert hoe vervreemding erin slaagt ons een voor de hand liggende betekenis van signalen te doen negeren of zelfs om te keren. Pijn lezen als een aanmoediging om nog harder door te gaan op de ingeslagen weg - veel gekker hoeft het niet te worden.”

“His face was pale, and he dropped to the floor so that he was half kneeling, half sitting before her. "Please. I can...help you." "No." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her mind felt clearer now. Everything made more sense when she wasn't so hungry. "I don't think I want the help you have." He cradled his bloody arm and tried to stand. "This isn't right. You aren't right. You aren't suppose to be here." "But I am.”

“For Lucie," Peter said quietly, the flame of a gilded saint's candle fluttering in his hand." "Leave." Peter had anticipated this reaction and was prepared. He cleared his throat. "I'm paying my respects," he said, still trying to be polite. The woman was grieving for her daughter. "I can guess the reason you're here. I've just lost one daughter," she said, her hand on the door. "I won't lose another." "Wait," "She's all I have left," she said. "And you have nothing to offer her." Peter knew that she was right, that Valerie deserved better. But he could not give her up. "I have a trade. The same one as your husband." "I know what a woodcutter earns." Peter began to protest, but Suzette stopped him. "Henry Lazar is her only hope for a better life." Peter looked into Suzette's anguished eyes, her words hitting him somewhere deep. It sank in: He could not give Valerie a good life. "If you love her," Suzette said, her voice cracking, "you'll leave her alone.”

“Let me make you an offer, little goat. We spar. If you lose, my cap is returned to me, unburnt. I continue to hunt as I have. And you give me your littlest finger.' 'To eat?' I ask, taking the flame away from the hat. 'If I like,' she returns. 'Or to wear like a brooch. What do you care what I do with it? The point is that it will be mine.”

“Life gives us a flair of awareness in the breeze of our daily journey and offers a free reign to explore what we are, to experience what we are not and to find out what we may become: a free ride until everything melts down into the indistinct and indefinite, while walking up to the ultimate gate of non-existence. ("Living on probation")”

“The first time I heard you laugh, I only wanted to say funny things so you would always be laughing. You know what happens to chocolate when you leave it out in the sun? I’m that unfortunate chocolate and you, you are the laughing sun. For this reason, I am offering myself to you not as a martyr or some selfless fool, but as a self-indulgent moth who actively pursues the light without much fear for the flame. The moth who revels in the heat and declares: Burn me.”